


Let Me Play the Game

by 823freckles



Series: Bleed to Love You [25]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1618103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/823freckles/pseuds/823freckles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alana prepares to leave Hannibal.</p><p>Day 27 of 30 Days of Hannibloom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Play the Game

**Author's Note:**

> Alana’s birth control failed, if anyone was wondering. She didn’t deliberately get pregnant or anything like that. I have these details in my head that never make it onto the page, so…  
> Anyways, thanks for all of the comments on the last chapter! I was so thrilled!

The next day was a Saturday. Hannibal had patients in the morning, so when Alana woke up, he wasn’t there. She turned over in bed and saw a note on the pillow next to her. 

It said, “Did you sleep well, meilužė? I will be home by 12:30 p.m. See you soon. 

-H.”

She ran her fingers over the note. She could imagine him writing it, his big hands moving across the page producing his fine handwriting. She sat up in bed and folded it carefully, and then held it to her heart. Her body was rocking from side to side as she thought about what she had to do. She had four hours to pack and be gone. Only four hours to extract Hannibal from her life. 

Alana sighed and got out of bed. First, she called Will.

“Hello, Alana.”

“Will. I need to go away for awhile. Can you take Applesauce?”

She could hear his hissing intake of breath on the other line. “Can’t your…husband…watch her?” She could hear his hurt, even now, across the distance.

She answered, “No, he can’t. And I thought she’d be better with you.”

“What does it tell you when you can’t even leave your dog safely with Hannibal Lecter?”

Alana could feel the tears start to well up in her eyes. It told her everything. That was the problem. “Will, I can’t do this,” she stated, her voice unwavering. “Can you take her or not?”

He sighed. “Of course.”

“Can I drop her off today? I’ll call when I’m on my way.”

“Yes.” The line abruptly cut off as Will hung up on her. She thought about throwing her phone across the room, but she reconsidered; she’d need it to get away, at least until she ditched her phone and picked up a pre-paid one, one with a number Hannibal didn’t know.

Where could she even go? She realized Hannibal had alienated her from her closest friend, Will. Even if he hadn’t, Will would not be safe to go to since Hannibal knew him and his whereabouts. Any of their shared acquaintances were out then. Her mother’s house was not a viable choice either, for Hannibal knew where she lived, and Alana would not put her mother in danger. Alana refused to put anyone she knew in danger. So she knew then that, wherever she was going, she would go alone.

She showered and dressed, then walked out the door and stood in the humid early morning sunshine, knowing she may never feel the Maryland sun shining down on her ever again. Then she walked to her garage, where she dug out her luggage from her storage. She dragged a suitcase inside of her home and began to pack.

She folded clothes-pants, shirts, and dresses-and placed them in her suitcase. Then came her undergarments. She fingered the fine lace of her brassieres as she thought about how her breasts would soon swell and she’d trade in the lace for practical nursing bras. 

She wondered what a child she could have with Hannibal Lecter. A murderer for a father was not a good start for a child. But she hoped that taking her child away from its father’s influence would be enough. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to hide her and her child away forever. Then she realized that the only way she and the baby would ever be able to come out of hiding would be if Hannibal was caught. So she needed him to be incarcerated. But the thought of her beloved rotting in a cell was overwhelming. She sat amongst her clothes on her bed and sobbed.

When she finally collected herself, the clock read 10:42 a.m. Time seemed to be racing forward now that she had so little time left. Alana began moving feverishly. She rushed around the room, gathering her toiletries and other things she needed. Then she stopped at her closet and tentatively opened the right side. 

A whiff of Hannibal’s scent floated out, and Alana felt like crying again. She took a handful of deep breaths, then reached in and pulled out her favorite shirt of Hannibal’s. It was a blue and white pinstriped button-up shirt. She inhaled. Even clean, it still smelled like Hannibal. She ran the soft fabric between her fingers. Then she folded it carefully and walked over to her bed, placing it on top of her clothes in her suitcase.

Next, she placed Hannibal’s mother’s necklace around her neck. She’d decided to take the sapphire pendant he’d given her on her 36th birthday with her. She’d worn it nearly every day for almost the previous year, and she couldn’t bear to leave behind any piece of Hannibal she could take with her. 

Finally she dragged her bag to her car. When it was secured in the trunk, she walked back inside. She was going to make a list of what she needed to do to succeed on the run. She started the list mentally. “Number 1: Go to the bank and remove cash, close bank account.” She turned to lock the door behind her when the handle turned.

Alana gasped and spun to look at the clock. “No! It’s only 11:16!” she thought, near hysterics.

Hannibal opened the door and smiled when he saw her standing in the doorway. “Going somewhere, my dear?”

“Just checking the weather!” she said, mentally checking her voice after to make sure she didn't squeak. She hadn’t. Good.

He stepped into her entryway and closed the door behind him. She backed up. “I thought you weren’t going to be home for another hour or so?”

“My last patient of the day canceled. So I came home early to my lovely wife.” He placed his bag on the floor as he spoke, then picked her up. Her legs came up around his waist as if it were any other day. She had to continue playing the game. For how much longer, she didn’t know. She let him kiss her and she kissed him back. When she slid down his body, her feet coming to rest on the floor, he released her and declared, “I’m famished. Shall I start lunch?”

Alana nodded and Hannibal walked toward the kitchen. “I’m going to read while you make lunch,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt so scared. She prayed he couldn’t sense her fear, or, since he likely could, that he wouldn’t be able to place it. 

She grabbed a book from her bookcase and reclined on her love seat. Her eyes moved over the words on the page, but she didn’t take in a word she read. Then Hannibal came out of the kitchen, carrying a steaming mug. 

“I made you tea, Alana.”

She took the mug in her hands, appearing grateful as she always had been when her husband made her tea, as he often did. She took a swig, hoping it would calm her nerves. “I’ll get him to run an errand,” she thought desperately. She took another drink of the tea, noting the taste of camomile, lemongrass, mint, and…

“Oh, no,” she thought. She could feel her mind swimming and her body growing weak. She wanted to sleep, just sleep.

“You drugged me,” she gasped to Hannibal as her head fell backwards onto the armrest.

He leaned in and took the teacup from her hands before she spilled it. Then he placed his strong arms beneath her, scooping her up. She wanted to fight, but her muscles felt so weak.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he apologized. He didn’t look sorry in Alana’s blurry eyes.

“What did you give me?” she slurred.

“Psilocybin and a sedative, among other things. I can’t let you leave me.”

Alana stared at the cold light in his eyes. She could feel tears of fear and betrayal swimming in her own. As he carried her upstairs, she could feel her eyes closing. She forced them open to say, “If you hurt our baby, I’ll kill you.” 

Then her eyes closed.

Hannibal paused on the stairs. He’d smelled the change in Alana’s chemical makeup. He hadn’t pinpointed what caused the change. Now he knew: she was pregnant. 

He carried Alana upstairs and lay her carefully on the bed. Then he lay down beside her and wrapped his arms around her, his hand resting protectively over her womb. He watched her sleep as he moved one hand in loving circles around her still-flat abdomen, thinking of girls named Mischa and Abigail.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by and titled after “Fever” by The Black Keys. Hope you liked it!


End file.
